


In which Punz is a few minutes late

by penink



Series: In Which Things Go Awry and the Good Guys Lose [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dream Smp, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, If you take this as ship don’t read, Puffy and Eret are kind, References Suicidal Thoughts, These are their characters, Tommy's counting to cope is based on something that happened in a stream, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), basically I killed Tubbo, i'm sorry this is heartbreaking, if anything needs tagged let me know i think I covered it, of different circumstances where they're a few minutes late, ok this has nothing to do with the content creators, pity the circumstances, please give me feedback, that line will apply to 2 out of 3 of the proceeding tragedies, they want to help Tommy and here they shall, this is going to be a series, this is roleplay, yes i used richard siken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penink/pseuds/penink
Summary: “because you want to die for love,you always have.Imagine this:...You’re going to diein your best friend’s arms.And you play along because it’s funny, because it’s written down,you’ve memorized it,it’s all you know....Imagine:Someone’s pulling a gun, and you’re jumping into the middle of it.You didn’t think you’d feel this way.”-Richard Siken
Series: In Which Things Go Awry and the Good Guys Lose [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189997
Comments: 19
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

First Tommy begged. Then he bargained. The following sheer denial was worthless. Tommy could only pretend to fight back for so long. Then he tried to stall the inevitable. He could only stall for so long. He cannot fight or talk his way out of this one. There’s nowhere to run. Tommy could never cope with hopelessness.

“Goodbye, Tommy.” 

Tubbo is walking into his own grave far too calmly. The way Dream put a hand on his shoulder was almost kind. Almost. 

“You’re smart, Tubbo. You didn’t fight back. For that, I’ll do my best to make it quick.” 

Tubbo shudders away from Dream’s touch, turning back to face Tommy, looking him in the eyes with this barren intensity, a vulnerability only offered when there’s nothing left to lose. 

Tommy couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let Dream raise an axe to his best friend. Tommy doesn’t even have the Axe of Peace as he charges him, unrelenting. Dream doesn’t flinch. He backhands Tommy hard enough to send him tumbling to the floor with a bloody lip. Tommy gets back up. 

It was like Dream could see him iron out his conviction. 

Dream’s tone is so cold, so level and unfeeling, without compassion of course, but there’s no malice either. Somehow that hurts worse. “Do I need to knock you out so I can get this done? You really want Tubbo to die alone because you wanted to pretend you even have a chance? If you take another step Tubbo is going to die alone and I will make it hurt.” 

“Tommy, _please_ ,” Tubbo was so calm, but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t afraid. “I think I’ve had enough pain in my life. Enough for _three_ lifetimes, even,” Tubbo laughs softly. Too easily. 

“Tubbo…” Tommy’s voice cracks but he doesn’t step forward, knowing Dream was good to his word. “I’m r-right here, big man. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Tommy fights back tears viciously, not from some pathetic attempt at pride– as if he had any of that left– but to ensure his vision was not clouded by water, to ensure he can see Tubbo one last time. He hates it, but Tubbo wants Tommy to be the last thing he sees. Tommy wants Tubbo to know he’s not alone. Until the end. He didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to see the life leave his friend’s eyes– 

But how could he leave him? 

“You’re my best friend. Y-You’re my best friend, and I love you, man. A-And I’m never gonna leave you,” Tommy keeps talking because there’s nothing else he can do. He can’t stop Dream coming up behind Tubbo, he can’t stop him from raising the axe. Tubbo is shaking, staring at Tommy like that eye contact is the only thing keeping him alive. Tommy thinks for a split second Tubbo was going to say something, but instead, he flinches, as the blade comes around and meets his throat. 

“ _No!_ ” Tommy screams and it sounds like he’s being torn apart. Maybe he is because surely this kind of pain could only come from losing half of yourself. He lunges forward to catch him before he hits the blackstone beneath them. “T-Tubbo, come on man, stay with me–” Tommy’s hands are shaking as he presses them to the bleeding wound in Tubbo’s throat. He’s holding onto Tubbo so tightly with his other arm he has a pang of worry that he might be hurting him. Tommy doesn’t know how to be gentle. So all he can do is hold onto him for dear life like it will make a difference. “F-Fuck, oh, fuck– you can’t– you can’t. They were supposed to be here by now– I thought– I thought we’d– I thought– I… 

... 

“...Tubbo?” 

Tommy couldn’t pinpoint the moment the life left his eyes. Tubbo was just gone. Tommy felt like that meant he had let Tubbo down somehow. Tommy couldn’t remember if he’d been looking Tubbo in the eyes when it happened or if he’d been distracted by the bloody wound across his throat. Why is he thinking about this? Why can’t he stop fixating on the way Tubbo had gone so still, the way his body still feels warm and blood hasn’t stopped pouring from the wound? A cruel voice that sounded like Wilbur, that sounded like violence, told him: _the bleeding is slower now because there isn’t a beating heart pumping it._

Tommy can’t think anymore. He can’t breathe, he can’t _feel_ – He can only hold him. He can only cradle Tubbo close to his chest. 

“Come on, Tommy.” 

It’s like Tommy can’t even hear him. He can only hold Tubbo’s limp body, bury his face in his shoulder, wishing Tubbo would just hug him back. Wishing it had been him instead. 

“ _Tommy,_ ” Dream kicks him moodily. “Not like you can do anything for him now. Get up.” 

Something snaps inside of him. Tommy’s anguish is suddenly muted, almost turned off, replaced instead by a brutal cold rage tight in his chest. His hands are still shaking as he places Tubbo on the floor as carefully as he can. He gets to his feet slowly. Dream seems to think he’s won. 

Tommy doesn’t let out a furious shout, he doesn’t channel his fury into harsh words or taunts or anything but the sheer ferocity with which he throws himself at Dream–– it takes him by surprise–– enough so that Tommy gets him stumbling back, his hands wrapped around the vile god’s throat. Maybe Tommy was always meant for violence. He couldn’t save Tubbo, but he could tear Dream apart. 

The mask falls away and as hard as it is to read such a monster’s distorted expression, it’s clear that he didn't plan on this. Tommy almost has him on the ground, planning on gouging his eyes out next, instead Tommy hits the ground hard, the flat of the axe knocking him back, the blade still covered in Tubbo’s blood. 

“K-Kill me!” Tommy screams himself hoarse and all that rage is replaced by desperation. “Just fucking kill me!” 

Dream’s expression turns to one almost like amusement. No– it _is_ amusement. Tommy had never properly seen the man’s face before, but it looks like he’s about to laugh. “Come on, Tommy. Let’s go.” 

“ _Please._ ” Tommy knows it’s a lost cause, but it’s all he can think to do. He can’t look at Tubbo’s body still lying there, unmoving. Tommy can’t let the fact that he will never move again return to the forefront of his mind. “P-Please don’t make me leave him.” 

Tommy knows when Dream steps forward he isn’t going to obey his wish. He’s more likely to drag Tommy to his feet or hit him for daring to keep protesting. Neither occur. 

“ _Punz?_ ” 

“I’m sorry, Dream. You should’ve...” Punz can’t finish his sentence as he takes in the scene before him. There’s too much blood. As so many more familiar faces pour through the portal, the realization ripples over them like a wave, determination stagnating into shock. Someone screams. Punz’s mouth is hanging open, his sentence left unfinished. He had assumed Tommy would be the one to die. He had _hoped_ that they would make it in time. This was something else entirely. 

Tommy just stares at them. All of these people coming to his aid and there is no relief, only a desperate, hopeless cry for help in his eyes, desperate in the sense that he knows there’s nothing they can do to fix this. It’s too late. _It’s too late._

Dream is the first to get over this turn of events. 

“What is this?” Dream steps back, standing just behind Tommy. He grabs onto Tommy’s shirt, dragging him to his feet. “None of you move or Tommy dies.” 

Tommy didn’t pull away even as Dream holds that bloody axe to his neck. He thinks he might be sick if he keeps smelling Tubbo’s blood for another second. Tommy stares blankly at the wall of armor and blades prepared to defend him. 

“You’re not gonna kill me, Dream.” 

Those across the room didn’t seem to believe him, none of them moving out of fear of what Dream might do next, terrified of another child’s body collapsing in a pool of blood. That soon changes as Tommy steps forward, leaning into the blade, daring Dream to let it cut into his throat as it had Tubbo’s. In this pathetic game of chicken Dream yields first, moving the axe at the last second so Tommy can’t get away with copying Tubbo’s wound. 

This allows the others to get over their initial trepidation. 

“Get away from him, Dream,” Sapnap speaks up first. 

Tommy pushes towards the blade with more intent and Dream withdraws, letting go of Tommy for just a second. Tommy, more on instinct than feeling, stumbles forward, almost collapsing if not for Eret catching him and quickly pulling him behind the line of defense, just barely out of Dream’s grabbing hand trying to take back his last trophy. 

Tommy is only vaguely aware of the mob encircling the outnumbered god. Eret is the only thing keeping him standing, their hold on his shoulders gentle and unsure. Tommy doesn’t look at them, just pulls away and turns around, walking past his allies to the hall of Dream’s trophies. There he retrieves the axe of peace. 

The unrest behind him meant nothing. He doesn’t care about their own shock or grief or anger. He simply retrieves the axe, crosses the room, pushes his way between HBomb and Ponk, and brings the axe down on Dream’s head. No words exchanged, only the sound of a blade and a broken skull, and Dream is one life down. 

Tommy says nothing, even as a general wave of shock swept over the waiting crowd. No one rebuked him, no one spoke, maybe a general gasp of shock and murmurs of fear but nothing more. There is no empathy for this lost life. Not with the dead boy in the room. Tommy has never heard these people so quiet. It’s like they’re already at the funeral. He waits at the bottom of the elevator as Dream returns. 

“Tommy, don’t be stupid. You’re not gonna _kill_ me–” 

Dream has an axe in his side before he’s even stepped off the platform. Dream’s ribs crack audibly and his blood spreads across the blackstone now. He’s not dead yet. 

“T-Tommy, don’t– Y-You don’t–” 

Someone shouts something behind him, panic, not outrage, as Tommy tears through his face with the axe, splitting his cheek in a gorey pantomime of his smiling mask still abandoned on the floor. Another life down. 

Tommy is not taunting or jaunty or smug. He is only blinding hot anger, holding onto his axe so tightly it hurts. The axe slips in his hands, his grip loosened by the blood on them. He can taste blood too from when Dream had hit him away. There is blood dripping into his eyes from where Dream had fended him off with the blunt of his axe. Tommy doesn’t care. He’s functional enough for this. 

“ _GET BACK DOWN HERE YOU FUCKING COWARD!_ ” He shouts at the empty cavern above. Only an echo replies for far too long. 

Until finally a cold voice returns, and Dream still doesn’t sound scared. “I’m not gonna do that, Tommy.” 

Tommy doesn’t retaliate. He’s tired. He’s tired of begging Dream to show some sign of remorse or pity or compassion. Instead he turns around, the crowd parting for him, taking the crossbow from his enderchest, silently loading a bolt, and turning it back on himself. 

“ _Tommy!_ ” Niki’s terror surprises even herself. 

“No no no– don’t do it, man–“ Quackity hesitates, unsure of how to stop him. 

“ _I don’t care anymore! I don’t want to care about anything!_ ” Tommy shouts at all of them hoarsely. They stare back in muted horror. They had prepared for a fight. They hadn’t prepared for this. He still hasn’t looked at Tubbo’s corpse. He knows it’s– He knows _he_ is there. Just out of the corner of his eye, just behind Ranboo and Sam. He can see the blood on the floor. _How_ is there so much blood? 

Behind him he hears the red stone mechanism whirring. 

“What’re you doing, Tommy? You know I’m the only one that gets to kill you.” 

“You’re not gonna have that chance. One way or another,” Tommy turns to face him again, turning the crossbow around easily. 

Dream starts laughing. He doesn’t stop. Not even when Tommy shoots a bolt through his shoulder. 

Tommy feels sick. Dream had kept him terrified for so long, had tormented him and pushed him over the edge over and over never showing mercy, and he had the audacity to die _laughing._

Tommy drops the crossbow, axe at his side. He doesn’t use it. He starts with fists, shoving the wounded god back into the wall with ease, the mask is off, and it’s too easy to split Dream’s cheek open, to break his nose, to try and break him open, even as Tommy’s knuckles break and bleed. Until he is exhausted. He feels a hand on his shoulder and shakes them off. Maybe Tubbo could’ve stopped him, but these people know for that very reason there’s nothing they can do. 

And Dream doesn’t stop laughing, wiping the blood from his face. Utterly at ease. Utterly victorious. 

Tommy wants to stop caring. He wants to tear him apart until there’s nothing left, but how can he not ask? 

His voice shakes, half rage half pain. “What’s so funny, dickhead? Y-You think I won’t fucking kill you?! You made my life a living hell! I’m gonna do what you did, Dream. I’m not pulling any punches. I have no mercy for you.” Dream is still just grinning, struggling to sit up, wincing. Tommy hates that. Dream isn’t allowed to pity himself and still act like he can win. “I’m not done with you!” 

Dream shrugs, slumped against the wall. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Tommy. You’re all alone now. Do you think I care if you beat me to death? If you act out your little revenge fantasy, giving back every hit I ever gave you, is that gonna change the fact that I still _won?_ Really? You’re really gonna kill me? You’re gonna get rid of your best friend?” 

Tommy ignores the ripples of disagreement and confusion behind him, blood pounding in his ears. Salt in an open wound. 

“ _Wait!_ ” Dream only screams when Tommy comes at him with the axe, out for blood. Tommy doesn’t stop, the axe coming down a bit too far to the left, taking a chunk out of his arm. Tommy won’t miss again. “ _I can bring him back!_ ” 

Tommy freezes, the axe still raised. Silence, this moment suspended by a delicate thread. Tommy wants to dare to hope. He knows it will only hurt. “Keep talking if you want to live.” 

“Schlatt gave me a book. What did you think was in it?” Dream is still so smug, so _sure_ , even as it becomes more apparent he’s bleeding out, his words unsteady and harsh as his breathing grows unsteady. “So, I _could_ bring Tubbo back. I could bring Wilbur back too– whoever. But I won’t,” Dream grins, a terrifying mimic of his mask, blood bubbling up between his lips from Tommy finally returning a beating. “But I know you won’t kill me now. You’re gonna let me go because I’m your only chance.” 

Everything is frozen in a moment. Tommy cannot pretend this is a decision to be made and not an immovable verdict. As always, Dream took away his choice. 

_You’re gonna get rid of your best friend?_

Tommy screams as he brings the axe down one more time. It hits the wall beside Dream’s head before clattering to the floor. 

Tommy breaks down. Because he’s _right._ Tommy somehow both has nothing left to lose and Dream _still_ has a hold over him. He can’t breathe, he stumbles back and it feels like the room is tilting around him. _You’re gonna let me go._ He can’t let Dream be out there– He’ll never rest again. Dream, no matter what he says, will spend every living moment figuring out how best to hurt him again. Worse still– how could he do that to Tubbo?! Let his murderer walk free and triumphant when he _had_ him– Tommy _had_ him, on the ground begging for his life. Some part of him also believes that Dream has no intention of ever bringing Tubbo back. Dream has finally found a way to trap Tommy in his own personal hell. As long as Tubbo stays dead, Tommy never recovers. 

But how can he risk it? 

If he kills Dream now he’ll never stop being haunted by him, by the thought that he let his best friend die one more time. 

“You’re not going anywhere, Dream.” Sam spoke up first. All eyes turned to him. “We put him in the prison.” Sam does not patronize. He does not avoid Tommy because he’s fragile, he looks him head on and waits. This is his decision to make. 

“C-Can… can you do that?” Tommy doesn’t have _hope_ , exactly, he can’t have hope anymore, but there is a potential for relief. At least the promise that he can mourn without being tormented further. The thought that Tubbo’s killer didn’t get to walk. 

“I helped design that prison, I know it inside and out, you can’t–” 

“So you know it’s inescapable,” Sam is cold. Unbelievably so. All of his compassion and kindness and pity is on the floor behind him in a pool of blood. 

Dream says nothing. It almost looks like he’s afraid. 

Tommy has Dream cornered, has his life in his hands as Dream had lorded over him so many times before, and he feels nothing. He is _done._ He turns back and the crowd parts for him. Ranboo is still just staring at Tubbo’s body, but he steps away. Tommy falls to his knees beside him. There’s so much blood. Tubbo’s eyes are still open, glazed over, blank. And all Tommy can do is hold him. 

He doesn’t hear the soft, anxious voices behind him. He doesn’t hear as Sapnap asks urgently for a health potion, a desperate bid to keep Dream alive as blood continues to flow from his many wounds. He doesn’t see as they discover the museum, as their disgust grows. Bad’s horror at the cage waiting for Skeppy almost makes him seem like his old self. 

Someone puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t touch me,” Tommy snaps. Tubbo is growing cold in his arms and Tommy can only hold him, hugging him close in death because it’s better than letting go forever. 

“You’re hurt.” Quackity kneels down beside him. “We should get a health pot’ for you too.” 

“Just– Just get away from me!” Tommy knows they only want to help. He doesn’t want their help. He doesn’t want to move and he certainly can’t bring himself to let go. 

“Tommy. You don’t want to stay down here. I–” Sam coughs as he gets choked up. He knows he has to keep it together right now but that doesn’t make it any easier. “I’ll take him home.” 

“Sam, no. I’m sorry but you can’t. You need to help me with _him_ ,” Sapnap keeps a hand on Dream’s shoulder, pinning him to the blackstone as his wounds slowly stitched shut, the health potion doing its work. 

Sam clearly didn’t feel happy about this, staring down at Tommy cradling Tubbo with a lump in his throat. He drained the ocean with that boy. He couldn’t be dead. Not when there was so much more to do. 

“We can’t leave him down here,” Sam still didn’t move. 

“We’ll get him home,” Quackity promised. He kept a gentle hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Tommy… you’ve got to let go.” 

Tommy just holds on tighter, willing Tubbo to just move, to hug him back, to seep some warmth and life back into him. Nothing changes. Nothing _will_ change. Tommy cannot let go. 

“You don’t want to leave him down here, Tommy. We’ll take care of him. I promise,” Quackity presses on. He doesn’t know how. Tubbo had been his president– He’d been his _friend_. Quackity was supposed to look out for him. “Please, Tommy. Don’t–” Quackity’s voice shakes. “Don’t stay down here. Don’t keep him down here with Dream’s other _trophies._ ” 

That’s what makes Tommy let go, what forces him to pull away, Tubbo falling from his hold limply. Tommy can’t catch his breath, he bites down on his knuckles to stifle a wail rising up against his bidding and instead he gags, tasting Tubbo’s blood on his hands. 

Tommy doesn’t resist as someone pulls him to his feet, an arm around his shoulder. He can feel wool against his cheek. He glances up to see Puffy keeping him steady. 

“We’ll walk you home, Tommy.” 

Tommy allows himself to be all but carried to the portal. Niki looks like she wants to say something. Niki, who had burned the L’Mantree, who had fought in the revolution beside him and Tubbo, who had stood beside them and watched the sun set, who had promised they would stick together, Niki, who had protected him, Niki, who had wanted to kill him. Instead she just steps out of the way. Tommy looks over his shoulder to see Dream ascending on the platform, Sam, Bad, and Sapnap guarding him. Dream is staring back at him. For a man in chains, he still looks like he’s won. Tommy looks down. Quackity and Jack Manifold are picking up Tubbo. Ranboo has given his cloak to cover the body. He could pretend it wasn’t him. Pretend that underneath that cloth was someone else’s best friend. A worthless delusion. 

“Ranboo, you should go home.” Jack tells the other kid. “You don’t have to see this.” 

“No. No, I’m good.” His voice shakes and no one believes him. “I… I don’t want to be alone right now…” 

Tommy doesn’t even think about the discs. He walks right past the fanatical shrines and the enderchests and all of it. He just lets Puffy guide him, Eret just ahead of them, leading the way as they enter the Nether, leaving the others behind to finish trying to cope with the damage Dream has left them with. 

It is a slow and silent procession. They cross the bridge over the lava, the radiating heat makes his skin uncomfortably warm. Looking over the edge comes with a pang of familiarity. Tommy feels numb. He’s not going to jump, but he doesn’t know what he is going to do either. 

They reach the main portal and cross back over into the mainlands. Here, his guides hesitate. 

“Tommy, do you want to go home?” Eret’s voice is so gentle. Somehow it makes the ache in Tommy’s chest worse. They continue when Tommy remains silent. “You can stay at mine. As long as you like. If you want to be left alone you can do that there, there’s enough room.” 

Tommy says nothing. 

“How about we head to your house, okay?” Puffy offers. “And if you want to turn around we can. Or we can stop at my place. It’s right across the way.” They don’t push him to make a choice, just give him time to answer. 

“I didn’t do that, you know,” Tommy says hoarsely, staring ahead at the remains of the community house. “He admitted it. He didn’t think I’d make it out to tell anyone.” Tommy still can’t quite believe that he made it out. That he isn’t going to be hurt any moment, locked away in some terrible cell with only Dream to visit... Maybe it didn’t matter, Dream’s confession. “Not like anyone believes me anyway and…” Tommy almost said _and Tubbo isn’t here to back me up._ That would be too much for him to bear. He’s holding on by a thread right now as is. 

“Okay. Okay, we believe you, Tommy,” Puffy looks to Eret, hoping they might have any idea of how to console the kid between them. Eret just doesn’t know. All they know is they need to help Tommy get home. They need to keep him safe. Even if neither of them were sure how to protect him from the cruelty that had already happened. 

Tommy freezes as they move down the prime path. He sees a particular tree. A jukebox. A bench. 

“I–I– can’t do this,” Tommy finally speaks, stumbling back. “Oh– _Fuck_ – I can’t do this–” 

“Okay, okay,” Eret tries to calm him, voice so calm and soothing and maybe even helpful in any situation but this one. “It’s alright, Tommy. Come on.” They took over for Puffy, keeping a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and guiding him towards the mushroom down the hill. Puffy moves ahead, opening the door. 

Puffy stows her armor in a nearby chest, Eret taking theirs off in suit out of politeness. No one expects Tommy to do anything polite on a good day, let alone now. 

“Just sit down anywhere. Let me get you a health pot’,” Puffy begins to rummage. “God knows you need it…” 

Tommy absentmindedly brushes against the wound on his forehead. _That wasn’t even from you trying to save Tubbo. That’s from after he was dead. He got you to back off with a slap. Some fucking hero you are. You didn’t save your best friend ‘cause he hit you once. You’ve been taking worse hits before now. You gave up on him. Why’d you give up?_ Tommy wanted to pretend the voice in his head didn’t sound like Wilbur. 

“Tommy?” Eret gently took his hand away from the wound. “You’re making it bleed again.” 

Tommy hadn’t even noticed as he’d made the pain worse. His hands were shaking. Tubbo’s blood still hadn’t fully dried, so his skin felt sticky and weighted. 

“This should help with that,” Puffy hands him a glass bottle. When Tommy doesn’t take it, she presses it into his hands. Her hands are warm. They’re clean, unlike his. 

Eret speaks when he still doesn’t respond. “Please, Tommy. Drink it. It’ll help. You’re hurt.” 

Tommy drinks. It tastes too sweet, but also hot, like spiced oranges. It’s familiar. Tommy takes a deep breath as far too many wounds slowly heal. It is not a painless process, feeling cuts and bruises and deeper wounds stitching together, but the relief that follows is jarring. Tommy hadn’t realized how much pain he had been in until it slowly ebbed away. _That’s nice. You get clean scars and Tubbo gets an open grave._

Tommy wants to throw the bottle against the wall. He wants something to break. He wants to squeeze his hand into a fist and feel the glass shatter and tear into newly healed skin. To cover Tubbo’s blood with his own. He doesn’t move. 

He knows Puffy and Eret are staring at him, Puffy shifting from foot to foot and Eret sitting close beside him. He is impossibly far from caring. He doesn’t care what they do. He wishes he didn’t care about anything. 

He doesn’t know why Eret and Puffy are doing this. He didn’t think it would be them. Then again, he didn’t think it would have to be anyone. Tommy wants to say _”Eret, I can’t deal with you right now. All I can think about is that Tubbo’s first death is your fault.”_ To say: _”Why are you even here, Puffy? Why aren’t my actual friends here? Why’re they the ones with the body?”_ He doesn’t say any of this. He doesn’t believe that misdirected anger in his chest. 

Nor does he say _”I just want to hug Wilbur. And I hate that I want to hug Wilbur because he left me in all this.”_

That one is easier to take as truth. 

Eret speaks softly. “Puffy, do you think you could bring me some water?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Are you good..?” Puffy didn’t seem to know how to finish that sentence. 

“I’ve got him,” Eret said. They sound so sure. So steady. Tommy could see why someone might believe them. 

Tommy says nothing, just sits there in silence, letting the pair of them exist around him, the grief threatening to swallow him whole. He doesn’t know how to deal with this kind of pain so he looks for the one thing he can do. He remembers Wilbur when he was still kind. Wilbur telling him, in all of his anger at the world, holding onto his shoulders, grounding him, _count back from ten and if you haven’t calmed down, you can do what you want._ It had just barely managed to keep him out of a fight on more than one occasion. This isn’t anger. 

_Ten. Nine. Eight._

But what else can he do? 

He’s still covered in blood. Why is that easier to think about the nauseating scent of copper, to think about how his whole body is heavy with an exhaustion potions cannot cure, than to think about– 

_Seven. Six._

This calmed his anger. Why isn’t it working now? What is grief but anger unhinged? It’s not grief. It cannot be grief. Grief means he isn’t getting him back. 

_Five._

Tommy has no one. He had thought his friends should be there with him, but who would _that_ be? Ranboo? Quackity? Sam? Niki? He is utterly alone and he is going to stay alone because Dream will hold Tubbo over him until he’s dead. 

_Five._

Or until Tommy isn’t _fun_ anymore. Because if what Dream said is true, there isn’t a way out for him. Tommy can’t even kill himself properly. Dream will just bring him back so their _game_ can continue. 

_Five. Four. Three._

What will he have to give up to have Tubbo back? He hates knowing that he would do anything to get him back if he believed it would actually work. He hates knowing that Dream knows this too. Tommy idly swatted away the pang of guilt that came with the reminder that he had yet to think of resurrecting Wilbur. 

_Three. Two._

Tubbo is dead. 

He is actually, properly dead. His body remained, Tommy knew, he had held him in his arms, but the fact that he wouldn’t appear, sentient and _alive_ at his last spawn– 

_Three. Two–_

Tubbo is going to _rot._ That’s what corpses did. Schlatt had a funeral. Tommy honestly isn’t sure what happened to Wilbur, he’d been too focused on coping with the crater around them, too focused on helping Tubbo– 

_Three. Two. One._

He’s still angry. If whatever this agony is could be counted as anger. Wilbur had told him to count back from ten and if after that he was still going to run ahead with whatever reckless ambition he had in mind, Wilbur wouldn’t stop him. 

He had nowhere to go from here. Nothing to plan or do. He was sinking deeper into his own head but all of these thoughts wouldn’t stop bleeding him dry. _The only thing left to do is plan a funeral._

God, Tommy is going to be sick. 

He didn’t know where Tubbo would want to be buried. It never came up. Tommy hadn’t even planned for what to do if Dream had killed him like he’d expected to happen, he had made his peace and assumed those he left behind would figure out what to do with him. He hadn’t planned that far ahead. He isn’t sure what he wants from them. If it would hurt more or less if they bring his body to Snowchester. If he’s prepared to deal with his body being brought to his home. He’s not. He’s not prepared for _any_ of this. 

_Ten. Nine. Eight._

He can’t think about this anymore. He can’t think at _all_. He wants to scream. He wants to hit something. He wants to tear everything apart until there’s nothing left. This world’s audacity to continue on without Tubbo condemns it to his wrath. He doesn’t move. Despite all of these terrible thoughts chasing him, it’s like the adrenaline hasn’t died yet. It hasn’t fully hit him that his best friend isn’t coming back. All of these dark thoughts on corpses and funerals and sacrifice feel superficial. Hypothetical. Because if Tommy is still here and breathing and _hurting_ , Tubbo cannot be dead. 

Puffy returns with a bucket of warm water. 

“Tommy? Do you want to wash up?” Puffy asks. 

Tommy shrugs. He can’t bring himself to move. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to move ever again. 

Eret got to their feet, kneeling down in front of him and taking the basin from Puffy. They took the rag and loosely held onto Tommy’s hand should he choose to pull away. They began to wash the blood off. Puffy sat beside him, taking Eret’s place and putting her arm around him. They didn’t ask anything of him, but they didn’t abandon him either. Tommy felt a lump in his throat as he just stared, Eret slowly and methodically washing away the blood and pain of the last hours. The water is pink and Tommy’s hands do not look like his own. They look so fragile as the blood is taken from his fingernails, bruised and split knuckles healed by the potion enough to scab. They look like hands that were made for more than violence. Maybe the blood on his hands is the only truth in all of this. Puffy is warm and her arm around him is better than a blanket. The tension finally begins to leave his shoulders, adrenaline fading after so many hours, and instead is replaced by the heaviness of sorrow, of exhaustion, of sobs rising in his chest. 

Neither of them acknowledge it. Puffy just keeps her arm around him, keeps him grounded as Eret gently wipes the blood and the tears from his cheeks. Neither of them give any indication of the bitterness they feel rise as more fresh scars are revealed, open wounds until very recently, but a potion cannot hide this evidence of cruelty and malice. They keep that anger to themselves. Now is not the time. 

Eret and Puffy are too gentle. They’re too kind and too separate from the violence still roaring inside of him. Tommy could do nothing to contain the sobs shaking in his chest as he falls forward, clinging to Eret, hugging them tightly because they’re the closest thing to better times he has. Eret is not taken aback or startled, or at least they’re careful not to show it. They just hug back, letting him weep into their shoulder. Eret is the last original member of L’Manberg he has left. He never thought it would come to this. 

“I want to go home,” Tommy finally speaks. He couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed for soaking Eret’s shirt in tears. 

“We’ll go with you,” Puffy offers. 

Tommy elaborates. “I dunno how to. I don’t want to–” He’s choking on his words. “I don’t want to walk past–” Tommy closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can do it.” 

“Okay,” Puffy nods. “You don’t have to.” 

“If you want to go home, Tommy. We’ll walk with you. We’ll– We could take the long way. Whatever you need,” Eret adds. 

“No… It won’t make a difference…” Tommy stares at his shoes. There’s blood on them too. “If I try and pussy out just– make me keeping going, alright?” 

Puffy and Eret exchange looks. 

“...sure, Tommy. If that’s what you want,” Puffy heads to the door again. 

Tommy keeps his head down. It feels only natural after so much time spent trying to make himself smaller. He can hear Wilbur scolding him for it, _posture._ He recognizes every shift in the prime path. He _knows_ when the bench is there. His heart is racing, like somehow a location can hurt him. Puffy keeps a hand on his shoulder. Eret walks on his left side, blocking his view. 

Then they are in the gentle dark of his home. Tommy looks up and it’s like he’s looking at something dead and rotten. 

A double chest with a sign reading, _saved for history purposes_. 

“Tommy?” Eret notices his horror. “What is it?” 

“Get rid of it. I–I need to get rid of it– This chest– I don’t care what’s in it– Someone please just–” Tommy isn’t sure if this is fear or anger. He doesn’t know if the difference matters. 

“Sure, okay, Tommy. I’ve got it, don’t worry. Why– Why don’t you just change into different clothes?” Puffy says quickly. “Go back into your room until I’m done with this?” 

Tommy nodded, unable to look back as he enters the coolness of his bedroom, the stone walls a better reflection of his state of being. He hears Eret and Puffy speaking quietly in his front room. He ignores them. His hands are clean of blood, his clothes are not. He needs to cut out any reminder he can. Still, he hesitates when taking off his armor. It takes proper effort for him to convince himself that he’s safe enough to do so. Maybe he doesn’t even convince himself of that. 

Time passes strangely for him now, but there is no rush. Eret and Puffy stay. That’s all they do. That’s enough. Tommy jumps like a firework has gone off when there’s a knock at the door. He’s clean of blood and now has fresh clothes, but he’s still acting like he’s in a warzone. How will he ever feel safe again? Who is he kidding– He hasn’t felt safe since before his exile. 

“Niki,” Puffy is surprised upon opening his front door. 

“Hey,” Niki sounds like she’s been crying. “I– He’s here, right? I just need to see him.” 

Puffy hesitates. “Yes, he’s here. But we’ve been trying to give him some time. It’s–“ Puffy doesn’t know what it is. How she can quantify the horrors of the past hours and Tommy’s dire state because of it? 

“I understand, I just thought he might… I have something for him.” 

“Give me a second, Niki,” Puffy turns back to Tommy, leaning on Eret’s shoulder. 

He doesn’t have any furniture up here so they sit on the floor. The room smells like summer. His front room always smells like the earth, tightly packed dirt walls and the doors often left open, it’s warm. It makes him think of bees. He doesn’t want to think of bees. 

“Tommy? Niki has something for you,” Puffy said, giving him the chance to protest or send her away. She took Tommy sitting up and making eye contact as the closest thing to a concise ‘yes’ she would be getting. She nods Niki inside. 

“H-Hey,” Niki is consumed by trepidation. She doesn’t know if she should be here. 

Niki wants to say _“I am so sorry for what I almost did. I wish I’d come to my senses before things got this bad.”_ But Tommy has been through enough without her confessing to a cruel plot. Tommy is not perfect. He has hurt people, he’s been cruel, he’s been careless, but he’s also 16. And he’s tried to do so much good too. Niki still can’t forgive herself for somehow forgetting that Tommy is just a kid. A kid who has suffered and lost so much. Niki lost her best friend. Tommy lost his brother. How could she have put any of that anger on him? 

Niki remembers the way her heart stopped when Tubbo went down at the festival, the relief that he had another life left. And now she has nothing left but guilt. She lost Wilbur, she lost Tubbo, Jack is losing himself, she can’t lose anyone else. 

Niki says none of this, only proceeds with her justification for being here. “I… I took these from the… from the place. I thought you might want them back…” Niki has two discs in her hands. Cat. Mellohi. 

Tommy stares. There is no sense of relief or triumph or even longing. Just a nauseous anger he found difficult to bury. 

“I– I want you all to leave now. Please. I need you gone,” Tommy got to his feet, staring at the objects in Niki’s hands like they were something evil, something cruel mocking him in his grief. 

“Do you… do you want me to leave them here..?” Niki is frozen, even as Eret and Puffy head towards the door. 

Tommy forces himself to look away. “Put them somewhere I can’t see them. If I can see them I’m gonna break them. And I–” Tommy inhales shakily. “I can’t do that.” 

“Tommy… if you need anything, I can help you,” are Eret’s parting words. “I know you can’t– I don’t expect you to–” Their voice shakes, as they hover between two apologies, one for recent tragedy, one for a past none of them can change. “Just… Look after yourself.” 

Puffy pats his arm gently before making her leave, “I’m just down the road.” She turns to Niki. “I think… I think we’d better talk.” 

Niki looks back to Tommy, frozen in the middle of the room. She carefully places the discs in a chest by the door. “Goodbye, Tommy.” 

Tommy spares her a glance, forcing a nod of acknowledgement. It was the best he could do. 

Then he’s alone. It’s like the discs are playing, sitting in a chest, unmoving, yet somehow they’re so loud. Almost as loud as the blood pounding in his ears. Tommy had been taken care of and worried about and protected. He hates it. And he can’t bring himself to move. All he can think about is this anger rising up in his chest. He needs to hurt something. He needs to tear and break everything around him. Where is his pain? Why has it not torn the very world apart? L’Manberg burned and that dark, violent end, stormy skies and explosions cutting through the air, it was fitting. More so because he had Tubbo’s hand to hold. He returned home from the war, and nothing has changed, despite everything having changed. He feels all that pain contained within himself, rising up in his throat like bile. He needs to let it escape before it burns him up from the inside out. 

So Tommy screams at the cruel, unforgiving familiarity of home and punches the wall, pain shuddering up his arm, but that pain felt right. Not _good_ , but as close to good as he had any hope of getting. He tears chests down to the floor, their contents scattering, and once there is nothing left undisturbed he tears into the walls. Exhaustion meant nothing. The dirt under his fingernails hurt less than the blood, until finally he’s gasping for breath, his head pressed against the cool dirt of the wall, pockets of earth disturbed by furious hands clawing, trying to change _something._

He topples another chest, two shining black objects sliding out onto the floor with whatever other junk he had stored there. His home has grown dark around him, but they gleam in the faint moonlight through the windows of the doors. Tommy feels blinding hot anger rise up inside of him as he grabs them and lets that anger go free– 

Then Tommy is staring at broken shards of vinyl on the ground, adrenaline still pounding through him. He’s shaking. He can hear his own heartbeat and trembling breaths in the emptiness of his home. Silence has never been so loud. Tommy falls to his knees, reaching out, his skin a pale sickly white in the moonlight, dirt underneath his fingernails, as he tries to pick up the broken pieces. 

“Oh fuck… No, no no– What have I done…” Tommy barely speaks, the words hoarse but too loud. He holds onto the pieces like they’re something precious. Worse– He knows they aren’t. There is no catharsis in their destruction, only a deeper grief. Because the discs only ever mattered because they weren’t just his. They were his and Tubbo’s. Tommy drops the shards and pushes himself away, backing himself into a corner as his breathing grows more labored and panicked and yet again sobs rise up in his chest. He curls into a ball, doing nothing to quiet himself as there’s no one here to hear him. 

He whispers into the dark, words too familiar. “I’m alone.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For six days I would not let him be buried, thinking, ‘If my grief is violent enough, perhaps he will come back to life again.’” -the Epic of Gilgamesh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More than a few warnings apply to this part so be aware this chapter includes  
> -suicidal thoughts  
> -abuse  
> -panic attacks  
> -manipulation  
> -self-loathing
> 
> Basically, Tommy is going to see Dream in this one.

“Whoa, this looks…” Quackity didn’t knock. “Different.”

Tommy wakes with a start, backing himself into a corner, heart already racing. “Quackity..? What’re you..?” Then the haze lifts. That blissful first second between sleeping and waking he had forgotten. It didn’t hurt any less the second time around. “What do you want?” 

“What do I–” Quackity’s normally teasing and good-humored default is worn down. “I don’t want anything. I just thought… I thought I should come by.” 

“Well, you’ve done that bit now. Now, what do you want?” Tommy remains harsh. He doesn’t want to hurt Quackity, more like he wants Quackity to hurt him. 

“Do you… do you want me to help you clean up around here?” 

“No. I like it this way,” Tommy says dryly. 

Quackity nods looking unusually uneasy. “Me and Jack Manifold… We didn’t know where to put him. We thought the community house first, but obviously, that wasn’t an option. And Snowchester is so far it didn’t make sense to…” Quackity trails off. He’s never this hesitant. “He’s at Eret’s castle. It’s the biggest space, to… to hold a wake, or whatever. Until we decide… how we want to go about this.” It’s clear Quackity had come here with good intentions. That didn’t make his words feel any less cruel to Tommy, who had just woken up only to be reminded of his best friend’s corpse. 

A pause, Tommy making no effort to make Quackity feel less uncomfortable. 

Quackity gives him a once over. “You don’t look all that bad, considering. How’re you… Nah. It’s dumb for me to ask how you’re feeling… obviously you’re not doing _good._ ” He looks like he wants to say something more. 

“Why’re you really here, Quackity?” Tommy asks coldly. “Go on, out with it. I know you didn’t come over here just to tell me where…” Tommy trails off, unable to finish. 

“I did want to check on you. That’s all, Tommy. I…” Quackity looks so open, so honest it makes it hard for Tommy not to trust him. “I needed to do something.” A pause, Tommy saying nothing more but not rebuking him either. “Dream is locked up. Sapnap told me last night. Sam wanted to come see you, but I’m guessing he’s busy doing warden stuff.” 

“Okay,” Tommy wants to pretend this makes him feel any better. He wants to pretend that knowing Dream can’t hurt him anymore is somehow enough to make up for the cruelty of the past 24 hours. Of the past months… 

“You want to do something,” Tommy gets to his feet, kicking his broken belongings across the floor. “Then stop holding back. Distract me or whatever.” 

Quackity bites his lip, clearly thinking hard. “Whatever comes to mind won’t be fair to you, I should–“ 

“Spit it out,” Tommy snaps. “Come on. Don’t treat me like I’m fuckin’ delicate.” 

Quackity nods slowly, seeming to come to some conclusion. “I always thought Dream wanted you dead. I didn’t think–“ Quackity sighs. “Guess I didn’t think Tubbo was on the menu…” 

Tommy visibly shudders. _I’m playing with my food._ He feels sick. 

“Sorry,” Quackity notices his response despite lacking the context. “Cheap metaphor…” 

“Keep going,” is all Tommy says, so cold and unforgiving especially towards himself. 

“So… so why’d he kill Tubbo?” Quackity asks. Tommy says nothing for a long time. “I’m sure you don’t want to talk about this–“ 

“He did it to hurt me, to punish me. Or he did it because he thought it’d be fun. Maybe both.” 

“Oh. Uh, okay,” Quackity looks especially wide-eyed. “Tommy… what we found down there… That hallway and all of the cages and frames waiting...” He doesn’t seem sure of how to phrase it. “Dream had that prison made. And-And when they went to take him there, he already had cuffs on him. Sam wasn’t planning on going to the prison, but Dream already had cuffs ready, so–“ Quackity doesn’t seem sure where he’s going with this. “What was he planning, Tommy? What _happened?”_

Part of him wants to throw something at Quackity’s head and yell at him to get out. Another part doesn’t know what he wants. Forcing himself to talk about these things, ready or not, seems like a pretty damn good way to hurt himself. 

“He was gonna–” Tommy exhales shakily, eyes closed for a moment and his hands balled into fists as he tries to ground himself. “He wanted me and Tubbo out there to hurt us. It was never a fight– It was a _game_. Killing Tubbo was the first part. He wasn’t gonna kill me, though.” 

“Why kill Tubbo then? I would’ve thought he’d carve a spot in next to Skeppy if he wanted to get to you,” Quackity took Tommy’s bluntness as an invitation to be blunt in response. 

Tommy laughs harshly. “Nah. He doesn’t need Tubbo to control me. He did just fine on his own…” Tommy trails off, exile still an open wound. “He wanted to… to keep me, but I ran away in exile, so…” 

“So the prison,” Quackity has a dawning understanding. “Oh. That’s… That’s fucked.” 

“Oh thanks for pointing that out. I would’ve noticed otherwise, dickhead,” Tommy is sharp. Quackity doesn’t take it personally. “He fuckin’... He killed Tubbo in front of me and I couldn’t even protect him ‘cause he said if I did anything he was gonna hurt Tubbo more… And-And Tubbo _asked_ me to stop, so he wouldn’t die like that. Die slow. And…” A terrible realization came to mind. “Oh… Oh _god_ – Fuck– I f-fucked up, I fucked up so bad, Quackity–” 

“Tommy, Tommy calm down– What is it?” Quackity tries to steady him, a hand going to his arm. 

Tommy struggles to catch his breath. “I–I–” He stammers through desperate inhales, turning quickly to sobs again. “If I’d j-just kept fuckin’ fighting– Another few minutes, _anything_ – Tubbo would’ve survived. Do you realize that?! I did what Tubbo asked, last wishes and all that, h-he just wanted to avoid a painful death, but if I’d just got my ass kicked before Dream went on to fuckin’ torture him to death, he would’ve _survived_ – I–I– just needed a few more _minutes_ –” 

“Tommy!” Quackity is shouting at him now. “Breathe. You couldn’t have known that!” 

Tommy shuts up sharply. Trying to keep himself quiet instead of actually trying to steady his breathing or calm down. He had been forced to learn early on it was better to shut up than be on the brunt of unwanted attention. “C-Can you leave?” 

“Tommy–” 

“Quackity, I want you to get the fuck out right now,” Tommy opened the door sharply, glowering at him. 

Quackity is frozen for a moment, clearly not wanting to leave him, but Tommy isn’t yielding. So he leaves, with a few parting words. “If you want to see him, he’s at Eret’s. And… And you can decide what we do next.” 

Tommy just slams the door, sinking to the floor and leaning against the wood, head in his hands. _He’s at Eret’s. You can decide what we do next._ He reaches for the tattered green neckerchief. He had changed out of his bloody clothes the day before, but this stayed. If he doesn’t look at it he won’t see the blood flecked on it. He can still wear it and just let its comforting weight remain. Tommy thinks he’s run out of tears. He definitely isn’t going to see the body, but if he spends another minute in his house, staring at the broken discs… he can’t do it anymore. 

There’s only one more place to go. 

Tommy is storming down the prime path a moment later. He sees no one on the road. He finally has a goal so for a moment, he had walked past the bench like it was just scenery, background, until he freezes and remembers why that matters. Why that _hurts._

_You broke them. How could you do that? How could you break them? How could you give up and let your best friend die?_

He keeps walking towards the white mansion on the coast. It is not his destination. 

“Tommy!” Someone is shouting for him. He keeps walking. “Hey– Hey Tommy stop–” 

“Now really is not the time, Ranboo,” he snaps over his shoulder. 

“ _Tommy_ ,” Ranboo is behind him shockingly fast. “Please just slow down, I need to talk to you.” 

Tommy pauses for one reason only, and it is not Ranboo asking to talk to him. It’s Ranboo holding a grass block. “Why..?” 

“Oh, right–” Ranboo nods like Tommy has just reminded him of something. “Uhhh,” he turns rapidly, as if looking for something. “Right– Okay, good–” He places it down at a seemingly random spot alongside the prime path. 

Tommy shakes his head and turns to leave. 

“Tommy– I need you to listen to me–” 

“I told you, not now–” 

Tommy shouts in surprise and outrage when Ranboo actually grabs onto him, holding onto his shoulder and forcing him to stop, the half enderman towering over him. Tommy is jumpy enough, but Ranboo is definitely not helping. Tommy doesn’t pull away, but he won’t admit it’s because he’s scared. 

Ranboo holds onto his shoulders intently. He’s almost making eye contact, seemingly staring at the center of his face. Tommy doesn’t know what that means, if Ranboo is angry with him or if he needs to be sure Tommy is paying attention. “I’m sorry I have to do this to you, but I need you to tell me exactly what happened.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you–” 

“No! Tommy. You need to do this now and it’s not for me.” Ranboo is more insistent than Tommy has ever seen him, more assertive and adamant and worried all at once. Like he knows something Tommy doesn’t. Maybe that’s because he’s speaking from experience. “It’s not for my book it’s not for any of that– If you don’t sort out the facts of what you remember right now, you’re going to get it in your head that this was somehow your fault. Okay? And we know it wasn’t.” 

“Are you kidding? He died because of m–” 

“Because of Dream!” Ranboo is actually shouting at him now. “Because of _Dream._ Dream is the reason, Tommy. You _know_ this. Don’t let your brain tell you otherwise. Okay? Write it down if you have to, I do, but hold onto that. It wasn’t your fault. It was _not_ your fault. He was your best friend. And you loved him. And you tried to save him. But you couldn’t. And that’s because of Dream. No one else. Got it?” 

Tommy can’t think of a sharp reply. His chest feels very tight and he doesn’t know if he’s going to cry or scream. Instead he just nods. Ranboo lets go. 

“Don’t just think it. You’ve got to remember it right,” Ranboo isn’t finished with him yet. Ranboo takes a deep breath, seeming reluctant but no less determined. “Tell me what happened.” 

Tommy is frozen, but if he’s being honest with himself, his intended destination is no less cruel than this conversation. 

“W-We got there. And–And we tried to fight, but it wasn’t– It wasn’t how we thought it would be–” Tommy glances up at Ranboo, unsure. Ranboo just nods. “I got one of– I _thought_ I got one of the discs so I was trying to find somewhere to stash it– Dream broke the enderchests– I… I assumed he would target _me_ ,” Tommy grew distant, staring off into space and darker thoughts. He couldn’t keep still anymore so he paces the prime path, Ranboo keeping in tow easily. “I had the disc… he hated _me._ He was supposed to chase _me_. And then I heard Tubbo screaming. Properly _screaming_ – scared the shit out of me, saying Dream was gonna kill him, and so I tried to get back to them in the fight but I’d lost track and then I find them a-and he’s got Tubbo behind him and he looks _bad_ and Dream gonna kill him. I try and get between them, but Dream just… he doesn’t get nervous. He doesn’t even get _annoyed_ at first. Just starts going on and on about how he’s stronger than us, how there’s no point in us fighting…” Tommy shudders. “I don’t want to talk about what he said. Y-You know what he was like when I was in Logstedshire. You fill in the blanks…” 

“I’m not asking you to relive it, okay?” Ranboo interjects. “I just need you to tell me what happened where you thought it was your fault.” 

“R-Right…” Tommy is too passive, too out of it. Whatever progress he had struggled to attain these past weeks of freedom were dampened by tragedy. “We… We got down into the… I dunno… whatever that _place_ was…” 

“Tommy. Push past it,” Ranboo is so controlled. Tommy can’t think of a time where he wasn’t at least a little anxious, but now his focus is solely on Tommy. 

“Uhm…” Tommy feels like his head is pounding. “Uh– H-He said he was gonna take me. Said just ‘cause he wasn’t gonna kill me didn’t mean he was gonna let me go. A-And I tried to get the axe on him but if I did anything he didn’t like, he’d hit Tubbo–” 

“Tommy…” Ranboo is at a loss. He didn’t have the heart to stop Tommy, but he didn’t know how much more of this he could listen to. “Why… Why would you think it’s your fault?” 

“He didn’t say he was gonna kill Tubbo until I started fighting and yelling at him. H-He was using Tubbo to threaten me, he wouldn’t just give that up unless I pissed him off and he needed to punish me–” 

“He didn’t _need_ to do anything. He _chose_ to do that,” Ranboo said firmly. 

“I-If I’d just kept my mouth shut–” 

“What, Tommy? What would’ve happened? Do you think he would’ve just let Tubbo go? So he could tell everyone about his super secret base? You _know_ that’s not true–” 

“Tubbo wouldn’t have told anyone, not if he knew Dream had me locked away somewhere, Dream would’ve known that was insurance enough if I’d just _listened_ when he first said–” 

“No matter what _you_ did, he chose to hurt Tubbo. You can’t change what he decided–” 

“Then I should’ve fought harder!” Tommy is shouting at him. “I should’ve fought harder– Tubbo went with me out there and he trusted me to protect him! A-And I let him go! Ranboo– I let him _go_. I should’ve kept myself between him and Dream the whole time– I should never have given him up like that. I stopped fighting– _Fuck_ – I _never_ should’ve stopped fighting–” Tommy scrunched up his eyes tightly, pressing his hands into his face until it almost hurt. 

“Okay. Fine– You should’ve kept fighting, you should’ve done everything Dream said. Then everything would’ve been fine, right?” Ranboo is almost accusing. 

Tommy stares at him, stammering wordlessly. 

“Yeah, right,” Ranboo fidgets, but his expression remains cool and bitter. “Don’t take responsibility for his actions. No matter what you did, Tommy, Dream was the one who decided to…” Ranboo trails off, looking around them like that will give him answers. “...to do that. Don’t forget that.” 

Tommy looks for some way to refute him, some way to push back and get Ranboo to see that it was supposed to be _him._ Tubbo was planning on coming home. Fuck… he doesn’t want to think about this. 

“Do you see now?” Ranboo asked as Tommy remained silent. Tommy didn’t reply, but he didn’t rebuke him either. “Because I know where you’re going.” 

Tommy finally looks him in the eye. Ranboo looks away. 

“Yeah. I am,” Tommy doesn’t sound quite so scared anymore. 

Ranboo, now satisfied with Tommy’s conclusion, looks far less determined. He looks lost. “I am… I am so sorry, Tommy.” 

Ranboo, who had visited him in exile, Ranboo who knew far more about how much he’d suffered these past months, Ranboo who had told them all to give up fighting, and now he offered kindness. Tommy looks down the prime path, past the white mansion, to the massive black structure over the water. “You of all people have nothing to be sorry for, Ranboo. Thank you. For… for a lot of stuff.” 

Tommy’s gentle honesty surprises Ranboo. Tommy is surprised far more as Ranboo pulls him into a hug, the shock leaves and Tommy reciprocates, a weighted sigh as comfort and pain intermingle, Ranboo grounding him for just a moment. He pulls away. 

Ranboo still looks so worried about him. “Are you sure you can do this? Are you sure you _should?_ ” 

“Nah,” Tommy laughs harshly. “But I think if I don’t I’m gonna do something even stupider.” 

“I’d go with you, but–” 

“Yeah. This is gonna get fuckin’ messy. You definitely don’t want to go with me.” 

“...but I’m not allowed,” Ranboo looks him over carefully. “If I could go with you, I would, Tommy. You’re not alone in this.” 

“R-Right,” Tommy didn’t know how to cope with this kind of honesty. It unsettles him. He finds it difficult to trust someone not to have ulterior motives when they’re this kind and open, except for… except for Tubbo. 

_He’s dead. You forgot for a minute there, didn’t you? He’s dead. His body is on the other side of the Greater SMP, why don’t you head there instead?_

“‘Bye, Ranboo,” Tommy is quick as he makes his way to his destination. He hates that the cruelest inner monologue he has sounds like his dead brother. 

Tommy can feel his heart racing in his ears as he approaches the portal. He hadn’t asked Sam ahead of time. Maybe he should have. He assumes the next step is to press the button. 

Silence, Tommy is almost taking this as an excuse to leave, when a voice responds. 

“Hello..?” Sam sounds puzzled. 

“Hey, uh, Sam? It’s me. It’s– uh, it’s Tommy.” 

“Oh. Tommy. I… I didn’t know you were coming here. I was planning on people scheduling ahead.” 

“Right. I’m sorry. I’ll just–” 

“No, no it’s okay. You’re fine. Why don’t you… Why don’t you come on through?” 

After another moment’s hesitation, Tommy enters the portal. He does not want to be in the nether alone. The room he appears in isn’t welcoming, but it doesn’t show the nether either. 

“Alright. You’re good to come back through.” 

Tommy knew the portal would take him somewhere else, but it was still disorienting to go through the same portal and find himself in a large windowless lobby. Sam looked tired. He’s solemn, which makes sense considering the last 24 hours, but Tommy is nervous enough without the warden armed in front of him. 

“How’re you…” Sam hesitates over his words. “How’re you doing? I… I know you’re not good, but… just needed to ask.” 

Tommy moves past the question completely. “You weren’t planning on visitors. If I can’t be here right now, I can go.” 

“I think I can make an exception for you, Tommy. Considering…” Sam’s hesitation made him seem more like himself. “But you’ve still got to go through the standard procedure.” 

“Right then. What’s that?” 

“Just paperwork to start.” 

Tommy coped relatively well with that part, although he was definitely not in the mood for reading long contracts. Sam was sympathetic. Then he was told to put his stuff in the locker. _All_ of his stuff. He’s glad Sam stayed by the desk, so he can’t see how much Tommy’s hands shake as he takes off his armor. Tommy hasn’t had nothing since… well, since the day prior. It feels like longer. Still, half the stuff he put in the chest formally belonged to Dream, if that didn’t tell him how much has changed nothing would. 

Tommy wants to pretend he’s not afraid, but he’s terrified. 

What’s left that he needs to be brave for? 

“You’ve put away your key? Good. Follow me.” 

The next trial he faced was no less unpleasant. 

“This will search you, and it might scare you for a second, but I promise you’ll be okay,” Sam sounded like he was breaking a script, instead of simply commanding him, he offers gentle reassurances. 

Sam had warned him, Tommy was no more prepared for the barriers surrounding him, the sharp prickling pain of a potion, and then utter blackness. In an instant he found himself standing in the hallway on the other side of the glass, Sam just down the way from him. 

“What the hell?!” Tommy shakes his head like it’s full of water. First he had to give up all his stuff, then he was trapped in a box. He didn’t like this at all. 

“I had to be sure you had nothing on you. If we’re not strict… what’s the point in having a secure prison?” Sam tries to console him. 

The first pit of lava only left him feeling a bit sick to his stomach. He could look away until the floor leveled out. The rest he managed, the vault door, the rows of cells, he did his best not to be afraid of Sam. It’s _Sam_. He has no reason to be scared of him. Still, Tommy is without armor or weapons, and Sam most definitely isn’t. That awakens something in him that leaves him keeping a good metre between them. 

Tommy is told to stand on a specific spot again. He does as he’s told. 

“Now, I promise this won’t hurt you, Tommy, I just…” Sam sees the way Tommy flinches when he raises his sword. “Never mind.” 

“W-What?” 

“Nothing. You’re good,” Sam keeps his sword at his side, going to the next keycard and the next lever on the wall. 

“Really?” Tommy doesn’t trust this. 

“I already know you have nothing on you,” Sam shrugs. 

“That doesn’t seem very warden-ly.” 

“Come on, Tommy.” 

“I don’t like being pitied…” 

“What says I’m pitying you?” 

“Not like you don’t have a reason to…” Tommy stops in his tracks. 

“Do you want to turn back? There’s no reason why you can’t,” Sam is too accommodating. 

Tommy stares at the narrow passage of water ahead of him. “No… No I want to keep going.” 

Even before the water, Tommy was once more trapped in a tiny place, doused in another potion that left him feeling sick and out of it. 

“What was _that?_ That was not just a water breathing potion.” 

“It’s a precaution.” 

“...Against what?” 

Sam remains serious. “If something happens, if you get hurt, you’ll get teleported out immediately.” 

“Oh, just like the search where you fuckin’ killed me–” 

“It only _feels_ like dying,” Sam points out dully. A pause. “...And if you were someone I was worried about trying to free the prisoner, it would make it easier for me to kill you.” 

“Right. Thanks, Sam.” 

“Come on. You first.” 

Tommy, water breathing potion or not, feels like he’s drowning. The narrow, dark tunnel seems like it could go on forever, until he finally claws his way around the corner and back into the light. Sam finds him gasping for breath, shaking and soaking wet. 

“Tommy?! What happened– was there something wrong with the potion? Why didn’t you say something?!” Sam moves quickly to offer him a hand, stopping and stepping back when Tommy flinches. He waits patiently for Tommy to settle. 

“I– I’m _fine_ ,” Tommy shakes his head. “T-The potion works just fine. I… I don’t like the water. Or small spaces.” 

“Why… why’d you go through? You’ll have to go back that way. Can you do that?” Sam paces from foot to foot, more critical now. 

“That’s my fuckin’ problem, isn’t it? What’s next?” Tommy glowers, getting to his feet on unsteady legs. He sees the waiting lecterns. “Great, more fuckin’ paperwork…” 

Sam yields, no longer questioning him, but he’s growing more worried. 

Tommy believes the worst is over. He is soon proven wrong. There is a wall of lava ahead and Sam does nothing to make it part. Instead, another potion. 

“W-What now?” Tommy asks despite _what now_ being perfectly obvious. 

“Stand on the first block.” 

Tommy is frozen. 

“Tommy, you’ve got to go before the potion wears off.” 

Tommy is making a list in his head. _Taking stuff, getting hit, small spaces, water, and lava._

“Tommy?” Sam struggles to keep up his formal facade. There’s something wrong here, more than just the wrong that comes with the life lost the day before. 

Tommy finally speaks, “was this place made to hurt me?” 

Sam is taken aback, his suspicions confirmed, but he still hadn’t expected something quite this harsh. “No– No, as far as I’m aware, it was made with someone else in mind.” 

“Yeah? Who’s that?” 

Sam shrugs noncommittally. Sam’s sympathy has limits. This is still his prison and his secrets to bear. “Not like it matters now.” 

“Right...” 

“You… You have to go, Tommy. Quickly. Can you do that?” Sam looks him over carefully. 

Tommy nods mutely. Sam still sees him flinch and cover his face on instinct as he is moved forward through the lava. 

It doesn’t hurt, of course, but Tommy feels like he’s covered in static, like he can’t breathe. He _can_ see, but that offers no comfort, a pit dropping off into nothingness, lava covering everything. He adds heights to the list of fears. Tommy can’t quite believe he almost died like this– He almost _chose_ to die like this. It’s harrowing enough without the _burning._

Sam is waiting for him on the other side. 

“Oh, _you_ got to take a shortcut?” 

The proceeding steps are easy by comparison. Setting his spawn, and then simply waiting for that wall of lava to drain. The wait is the worst part. Tommy had been so distracted by the varying fears that came with getting here that he had forgotten _why_ he was here. 

Sam fidgets, clearly trying to stick to his place as warden, but things had been unimaginably cruel lately. It’s hard not to try and fill some of this painful silence. 

“You look a lot better than you did yesterday,” he tried. 

“Do I?” Tommy scoffs. “Like that’s fuckin’ hard…” 

“You know… He cared about you. He talked about you all the time–” 

“You know what I love to do right before going to see the guy who’s been making my life hell for months now? Talk about–” Tommy struggles to get the words out. He can’t say it. He can’t say _my dead best friend._ “About… about _him._ Okay? So let’s just watch the lava.” 

Eventually, the lava cleared away, revealing a massive cavern, and in the center of it, a single room. 

Tommy can’t breathe. 

“When you’re ready to leave, just let me know,” Sam sees how frozen he is. “He can’t hurt you, Tommy. He moves against you in any way, you’re back here with me, okay?” 

Tommy nods, staring ahead. He wants to pretend his heart is racing only because he’s angry. He wants to pretend he isn’t terrified. He barely hears Sam as he tells him to keep walking, Tommy stumbling onto the platform, his heart dropping to his stomach at the sight of the fall below him. Yet far too soon he’s on the other side, and his way out pulls away, lava pouring from the ceiling and covering Sam’s line of sight to him. 

“Hello, Tommy,” Dream sounds calm. Far too calm. 

Tommy turns to face him. The barrier between them has gone down. Dream doesn’t look too bad. He should’ve looked worse. Tommy can’t help but stare around at the cell with the understanding that this was where he was supposed to end up. It’s harsh. For Dream it isn’t harsh enough. 

“You’re my first visitor,” Dream stares at him and somehow it’s like he’s still wearing a mask, he’s still shielded. “It’s been too quiet since Awesamdude stopped _hovering_ ,” he scoffs. 

“You haven’t even been in here for a day, you selfish prick.” 

Dream sighs. “Feels longer.” 

“I’m not gonna pity you.” 

“Who says I was looking for pity?” Dream still has the audacity to be amused by him. 

Tommy isn’t here to play games. He doesn’t want to try and one up him or prove that he’s in control here. He knows he’s not. Dream will always have the upper hand as long as Tubbo is– As long as he’s– 

As long as Tubbo is gone. 

“You’re going to suffer in here. You made it so I would, and now you’re gonna deal with the consequences,” Tommy tries to sound strong. 

Dream ignores him, spinning the clock on the wall. 

“Oy! Dickhead! Do you wanna stay in here forever?!” Tommy’s anxiety isn’t assuaged by Dream’s blank expression. 

“Oh, are you gonna let me out, Tommy?” Dream smirks, still not looking at him. 

“No. But– But I’ll make your life a living hell. If I have to.” Tommy waits for a response that isn’t coming. “if you think I won’t torture you to get him back–” 

“ _Torture_ me?” He laughs sharply. “Tommy… look where I am. What pain could you cause me that’s worse than boredom? No, if you want _your Tubbo_ back, you’re gonna have to give me something.” 

“I’m not letting you out.” 

“Oh, not _yet_.” He smirks, like a school bully holding something precious over Tommy’s head, watching him jump but never bringing it within reach. “But you’ll grow more desperate. Remember, your attachments are why I’m still alive. And you won’t stop until you have him back.” 

“And you’re going to give him back to me. You’re gonna bring him back.” 

Dream still looks so smug. “Am I, Tommy? The moment I bring him back our little game ends, doesn’t it? If not from you killing me– You’ll never visit me again,” he feigns a pout. “Why would I do that?” 

“Because then I’ll just kill you!” 

“We’ve already agreed that isn’t going to happen.” 

“Then if you don’t, you’re never gonna see the sun again.” 

“I don’t care much for sun. The lava is warm enough.” 

“Your friends can’t forgive you if you’re just in here.” 

“I don’t need forgiveness. Or friends.” 

“You have no power in here. No control– This is _your_ server–” 

“Oh, but I do have power, Tommy. Remember? I have power over _you_ ,” Dream feigns pity. 

“I-I– I’ll stop coming to visit you!” 

Dream’s cool expression turned into a far more malevolent smirk. “Oh, you won’t. I know you won’t, Tommy. Because if you stop, you’ve given up on him. You’re doing nothing to try and get Tubbo back. And you can’t live with that, can you?” 

Tommy’s jaw was set. “I’ll kill myself.” 

Dream burst out into barking laughter, refusing to settle for far too long. “ _Tommy._ How stupid are you?! The whole _reason_ you’re throwing this little tantrum is because I can bring back the dead.” Dream steps closer, towering over him. Dream is the one in prison, Dream is the one never leaving here, but Tommy is the one that feels trapped. Dream’s tone softens far too quickly, a dark invitation, “go ahead and kill yourself. That doesn’t mean it’s over for you.” 

“It c-can’t be that simple.” Tommy fights the urge to step back, struggles to stare down those cold and unforgiving eyes. Tommy’s first impression that Dream’s actual face seemed to be a mask itself only grew. He is uncanny, something not quite human about him, looking him head on, Tommy feels his hairs stand on end. He steps back. “Otherwise– You wouldn’t have been so careful _not_ to kill me. Y-You wouldn’t have come back when I was gonna shoot myself.” 

Dream shrugs disinterestedly, swaggering away from him, seeming satisfied that Tommy had flinched back. “I’ll admit. It isn’t without… sacrifice. But for _you_ , Tommy?” It’s like he’s made of clay, his dead expression moulding into a eerie pantomime of fondness. “It’s worth the hardship.” 

“You’re sick. You’re fucking sick…” 

“ _I’m_ sick? You’re the one planning on killing yourself,” Dream teases. “It’s a shame you wouldn’t be able to do it in here. It would’ve been funny.” 

Tommy shudders. _Funny?_

“W-What if I take a leaf out of your book, eh? What if– What if I go after Sapnap or George?” Tommy never would. No matter what Dream holds over him, he wouldn’t sink that low. He just wants Dream to react, to show _something_ underneath that facade. 

“You wouldn’t.” 

Tommy is exhausted. He’s at the end of his rope and Dream won’t stop _pushing_. Tommy needs to push back. He slams Dream into the wall, pressing his arm against his throat. “You didn’t think I’d fucking kill you either, did you?” Tommy snarls. 

Dream says nothing, he refuses to react as Tommy nearly chokes him. He can’t speak without sputtering as Tommy refuses to relent, so he just stares, unfeeling. Dream cannot defend himself unless he wishes to end their meeting now. Tommy is frozen. There’s nothing to be gained here. It’s infuriating. He lets go, shoving Dream back once more for good measure. 

“You’re pathetic,” Tommy spits. 

“ _I’m_ pathetic?” Dream says hoarsely, a hand going to his throat. “You’re the one still scared of me. Even locked up I still terrify you– don’t I?” 

“N-No. I hate you. There’s a difference.” 

“Are you _sure_ about that, Tommy?” Dream steps closer. Tommy doesn’t want to back away. He doesn’t want to show that he is scared. Dream tilts his head to the side, contemplating him. “You know, I think this was enough fun for today. I’m getting bored of you.” Even as he says this he steps closer. 

“Fine. I-I’ll go. And then you’ll be alone again,” Tommy steps back. He can feel the heat of the lava behind him. “Sam!” Tommy shouts back over his shoulder, but he doesn’t look away. “I’m done here. I want to leave.” 

“Okay. Stand in the back right corner of the cell for me.” 

Dream isn’t moving, standing quite placidly between Tommy and his exit. It’s a threat enough. 

“I… I can’t get back there. I– Is there another way?” Tommy doesn’t speak to Dream. He doesn’t ask him to move. He knows exactly what this is. It’s a final game before he leaves. 

“...No. There isn’t,” Sam sounds puzzled, worry taking hold. “What’s happening, Tommy?” 

Tommy doesn’t reply. It feels almost childish to shout back, _he won’t get out of my way!_ Tommy’s hands are balled into fists at his sides. He doesn’t want to be afraid anymore. Tommy starts forward, moving to shove Dream back as he had before. He flinches as Dream raises a hand against him, hitting him across the face. The world turns black around him. 

Tommy reorients back in the chamber on the other side of the lava. Well, he _reorients_ in that he’s conscious. Nothing else is tangible. Tommy can’t breathe, a hand going to his cheek, staggering back against the wall. Sam turns around at the sound. 

“What– How did you get out?! I haven’t sent–” Sam understands and he feels sick. “...oh.” 

Tommy is shaking like a leaf, knees tucked into his chest, eyes shut tightly as he just tries to breathe, but it’s like the air keeps on getting pulled from his lungs before he can catch up. He’s so tense it hurts. His mouth tastes like iron. 

“...Tommy?” Sam doesn’t know what to do with himself. After a moments hesitation, he sits on the floor across from him. “You’re safe, Tommy. I promise, you’re safe.” Tommy just shakes his head sharply. He doesn’t _care_ about being safe. He just wants to be brave again. 

“I’m here. Hey, do you think you could breathe with me?” Sam tries again. He keeps his distance still. Sam breathes slowly and deeply, watching Tommy carefully for any sign that he’s following. 

It takes time, but Tommy tries to copy him. He’s too exhausted to pretend he doesn’t need help. It takes even longer for Tommy to uncurl from the wall, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. Tommy aches from sitting on the cold stone for so long. His head is in his hands, as the adrenaline finally fades. 

Sam is still there, just waiting for him. 

“That was really good, Tommy,” Sam says. 

The first words Tommy says in hours are a harshly muttered, “don’t fuckin’ patronize me…” 

Sam would expect nothing less. “Do you want me to sit beside you?” 

Tommy hesitates, looking up at the sword at Sam’s side. Sam notices and tosses it aside, ignoring the rational part of himself shouting about protocol and responsibility. Tommy nods. Sam sits beside him, close enough that their shoulders touch. Tommy tries to focus on him. The fact that he’s tangible and alive and not going to hurt him. His head is in his hands again, lip trembling as he bites back a sob. Sam feels like he has no idea what he’s doing, but he puts his arm around Tommy. He understands redstone and mechanisms and _things,_ he doesn’t understand people. It would’ve been easier if this were the kind of problem he could just keep Tommy busy through. Grief is never that simple. 

“Hey, Tommy?” Sam knows this might be a terrible idea, but Tommy seems calmer and the thought has been gnawing at him incessantly. He has to ask. “Can I ask you something?” 

Tommy looks up, wiping his eyes quickly. Sam pretends not to notice. “What?” 

“...Why did you think this place was made to hurt you?” Sam had participated in the design more than Dream had. He had no idea what role he had to play in whatever made Tommy think that and that scared him. Tommy says nothing for a while. “You don’t have to answer. Sorry, not the time–” 

“Did Dream decide some of this stuff?” Tommy nods at the wall of lava to their right. 

“Yeah. I guess so,” Sam watches him carefully, like he can read something from Tommy’s expression to clue him into what was going on in his head. 

“Feels like exile.” 

“It _what?”_

Tommy nods slowly, staring off into space, his jaw set and tense. “Taking my stuff, that just made sense. I get it, can’t bring in contraband and shit. Still, it was a rough way to start. Then there was the lava beneath the floors, when it could’ve just as easily been just a drop off, right?” 

“Well, precaution is a matter of excess–” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Tommy waves him off. “The water… the water was bad. It was _particular_ too. Scared me even more ‘cause I didn’t think Dream… if that meant he was watching me _all_ the time…” Tommy shivers, not wanting to finish the thought. “Why’d you do the water bit?” 

_This_ Sam can do. He can explain mechanics and planning even if he doesn’t fully get why Tommy is asking. “I tried to set up several steps that require potions, because even if the prisoner could break through blocks– which isn’t even feasible, and guards would be notified immediately– but let’s say they did, then there’s no way through the next layer of defense. The water is almost a trap. The prisoner thinks they can make it and gives it an attempt, they drown and are sent back to their cell, or are at the very least injured.” 

“Of course you have a fuckin’ reason…” Tommy mutters. “The lava is shit too. Guess that one’s kind of my fault, self inflicted or whatever, but… well, let’s just say I’ve got some fucked up thoughts when it comes to all that.” 

“Oh.” 

“So… what bits did Dream do? And when? ‘Cause he wouldn’t have known about a lot of that until… until a bit into my exile,” Tommy stares at the wall of lava, knowing that through it that monster is laughing at him. 

“Tommy… the amount of time and work and planning that’s gone into this prison… it blurs. I don’t know. And I mean that. But again, you weren’t the primary target when we started this project. I didn’t think Dream saw you as a threat, especially in exile,” Sam isn’t sure if he’s even reassuring Tommy. 

Tommy nods, staring at the floor. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“I’ll be there the whole way getting out of here, okay?” Sam offers the only promise he can. By design, there’s no other way out. 

“Nah– No, it doesn’t matter, I’ll need to get used to it, because I have to come back here,” Tommy said it with utter certainty. Like it was some innate fact. 

“You can’t be serious. After what you just told me– Dream _attacked_ you and I’ve spent the past hour talking you down from a panic attack– and you want to do that _again?_ You can’t put yourself through that,” Sam is baffled. “Why do you _have_ to come back? I’ll be keeping an eye on him at all times. He’s not going anywhere. I swear it.” 

“No, I need to come here until he brings Tubbo back.” 

“Oh… Tommy…” Sam looks so heartbroken on his behalf it’s infuriating. “Do you really think–” 

“Do I really think what, Sam?!” Tommy snaps. “That he’ll ever actually bring him back? Do you think that makes a fucking difference? I won’t stop until he does. I don’t _care_ about how hard it is to get back here, I don’t care if Dream scares the shit out of me, I’m not gonna stop.” 

“Do you even know if he really _can_ bring him back?” Sam voiced a thought Tommy had kept buried. 

“It doesn’t make a _difference._ Do you get that?” Tommy gets to his feet, pacing the length of the room. “If Dream was lying, if Dream is never going to give him back, if Dream _wants_ me here so he can keep hurting me– It doesn’t fucking _matter._ ” Tommy stops, staring at him with something manic behind his eyes. “Either I do this, or I give up on Tubbo forever. And that’s not even an option.” 

“Do you really think Tubbo would want this for you?” Sam cuts deep. 

Tommy freezes, his chest feels taut with grief. “I’ll ask him when he’s not fucking dead.” 

“Then I just won’t let you in here anymore, Tommy.” 

For a moment Sam thinks Tommy might try to hit him. He doesn’t. “Then you don’t know what I’ll do.” There’s a threat in those words and it isn’t directed at Sam. 

“You’re done for today,” Sam remains firm. “Come on. We’re leaving.” 

Tommy doesn’t resist as he’s herded down the hall. No words besides Sam’s instructions are spoken. Then Tommy is standing outside alone and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

He walks along the shore until he finds a boat. 

He knows where he’s going, even if he doesn’t know why. 

He’s far enough that the shoreline is out of sight. Then the rain comes pouring down. 

“Fucking typical!” He shouts at the empty sea. His arms ache. He keeps rowing, shivering as he’s soaked to the skin. He’s making himself more miserable, he knows he is. He’s doing this on purpose. 

The shoreline is only a little familiar. He had rarely seen it from this far out. Whenever he woke up under water, he was usually closer to the bay. He can see the tower from here. He hits the beach a little harshly, the rain coming down hard enough that it was impossible to look ahead. There’s nowhere for him to shelter, only craters and rubble. 

The closest trees have all already been cut down. He wanders. He wishes he’d thought to bring something to build another tower. Not to jump– no, that would be just a bit too delibrate– but maybe to tempt fate and warrant a lightning strike. The rain isn’t stopping. And whatever shelter he could find under the leaves feels useless. He brought his axe. 

There had been a time when Tommy had disillusioned himself to think maybe he was meant to create, to grow, to bring something, not take something away. There was a time where he wasn’t marked by thievery or conflict, but someone decided to steal from him first. It’s the same old story. Something is taken from him and then he realizes all he can do is try and take in return. 

His hands hurt because of how tightly he’s holding the axe. His arms hurt as he messily tears through wood, hacking away no matter how exhausted it makes him. 

Maybe Tommy was always just meant to hurt. He was made for violence. That’s what it always came back to. Tommy wasn’t meant for music, that was always Wilbur, he wasn’t meant for peacetime, that was always Tubbo, he wasn’t meant for control or justice or certainty. He was always meant for this. He taints everything around him. Wilbur died. Tubbo died. And somehow he’s still here. He’s meant to break things, not keep them safe. 

He could never keep any of them safe. 

The tree is felled messily, the cracking from his haphazard assault is like thunder, the wood shattering and splintering before the wet branches hit the ground. 

He keeps going, even as he stumbles in his exhaustion, even as his hands blister and bleed, even as he hates himself for finding another way to destroy something– until the rain lets up. 

Tommy is breathing hard, the sky still overcast and Tommy still drenched and cold, and he’s surrounded by fallen trees. He’s reaped what he’s sewed. And there’s no reason for this, no home to be built or project to be made, only wood that will die and rot. 

The rain lets up and out of the corner of his eye he sees them. He sees bees drifting back out into the clear air. He sees the nest tucked under the branches of a tree that had escaped his onslaught. 

The world has gone too quiet. Tommy screams, bringing his axe towards the nest, but he _can’t._ He throws the axe aside and falls to his knees on the cold, muddy ground. He can’t. Not while there are still flowers. 

He knows he’s made for destruction, but maybe he can decide. He can choose to be destroyed instead of letting everything he touches crumble. 

He shouldn’t be here, he bombed enough of this untouched coast, but he doesn’t turn back towards the shore. He doesn’t get in his boat. He keeps walking inland until he sees snow. 

When Tommy shows up half frozen, trudging closer to the house, Technoblade’s first thought is _idiot got himself exiled again._ He had been aware of Tommy’s plan to fight Dream. He hadn’t expected to see Tommy again, surviving or not. Although, for a survivor Tommy looked worse for wear, staring at him with dull eyes, looking like he’s a second away from snapping. 

“What do you think you’re doin’ here, Tommy? Just ‘cause I didn’t kill you last time doesn’t mean you’re welcome–” It’s like Technoblade’s brain stops working, he’s frozen as Tommy hugs him tightly, burying his face into his shoulder, shaking. 

“Phil?!” Techno shouts over his shoulder. “Could use some help over here!” 

“What?!” Phil comes rushing from around the house, stopping in surprise. “Ah. Well. Wasn’t expecting that.” 

Techno awkwardly patted Tommy’s back as Phil came over. 

“Tommy?” Phil put a hand on his shoulder. “You alright?” 

“Did he lose the fight with Dream?” Techno asks like Tommy can’t hear them. 

“I don’t think he’d be here if that were true.” 

Tommy tenses, pulling away quickly. “What the fuck am I doing…” 

“What’s happened?” Phil asks again. 

Tommy stares at both of them, looking bitter, but bitter with himself for coming here in the first place. 

“Something must’ve happened,” Techno folds his arms over his chest doubtfully. 

“You… You don’t know.” 

“Know _what?_ ” Phil exchanged a look with Techno. 

“Ranboo didn’t..?” 

“We haven’t seen Ranboo for a few days now,” Phil is growing more worried. “Has something happened to him?” 

Tommy laughs harshly. “Oh, that’d worry you, would it?” 

“If you’re just here to fight, leave. Otherwise I might take you up on it,” Techno snaps, turning to go back to the house. 

“He killed Tubbo.” 

Everything freezes and shifts in a single moment. 

Tommy continues without mercy. “What? You disappointed you didn’t get the chance to do it yourself?” 

“What the hell happened?” Phil spoke up first. “Fucking hell, Tommy, we had no idea…” 

“Oh really? I thought you and Dream were real pals. He didn’t clue you in?” Tommy is vicious, but again, it’s like he doesn’t want to hurt them, he wants to see if they’ll hurt him instead. 

“Oh, _I’m_ pals with Dream? You’re the one who spent weeks in _my_ house complainin’ about whether Dream was your friend or not,” Techno snaps. 

“Oh, right, fuckin’ sure– You know I was fucked in the head then–” 

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?!” Techno is exasperated. “I didn’t know _anything._ You’d just clam up and then you left!” 

“Oy! We are not getting into this right now,” Phil cuts in firmly. “Techno, you’re better than picking a fight with– with–” 

“With _what_ , Phil?” Tommy says coldly. “A kid who’s already fucked up enough? You didn’t seem to worried about that last time I saw you.” 

Phil had the decency to look worried instead of angry. His feelings towards L’Manberg and Tubbo and Tommy and all of this are too complex for him to pin down, but he’s not going to let a grieving teenager stumble home alone in the dark. “Tommy… What’re you doing all the way out here?” 

“I don’t fuckin’ know…” Tommy looks from Techno to Phil with harsh scrutiny. “Y’know, I wish I wanted to kill you both. For what you’ve done. But I don’t. So. Don’t hold it against me...” 

Phil looked back to Techno again with wide eyes. Neither of them know what to do with that. “Come on,” Techno sighs. 

“What?” 

“Get inside. Before you freeze to death.” 

“ _What?_ ” 

Phil follows Techno, looking back to Tommy, unsure of what to say. “I’ll… I’ll see what food we have…” 

Before he knows it, Tommy is sitting by a fire in Techno’s house, Phil passing him a bowl of soup. Tommy doesn’t like how they’re both staring at him. 

“...so, what happened?” Techno broke it first. “You’re out here, might as well clue us in.” 

Tommy grimaced, his hands warming from the bowl, but he doesn’t feel like eating. He hasn’t eaten since the day prior, before the fight… 

“What happened to Dream?” Phil offers a more concise question. 

“He’s in prison.” 

“ _Prison?_ ” Phil scoffs. “Why the hell isn’t he dead? That’s not like you. After what he did– you let him live?” 

Tommy is staring into the fire, tense. “I wanted to kill him. I still do. Fuck– I want to kill him so bad and I want to make it hurt, but I can’t.” Tommy had a dawning realization. “Hey, wait– What happened to Ghostbur?” 

Techno and Phil exchanged bewildered glances once more. 

“I don’t know, Tommy. We got together the stuff to try again, but then… well, everything else happened. I…” Phil sighs, exhausted and weighted. “I haven’t seen him since.” 

“But you had a plan? A plan to resurrect him?” Tommy insists. 

“Er, yeah. A basis, at least. But the texts I’ve managed to find… it’s hard to be clear. There’s no telling if it would’ve worked, even with the totem,” Phil is cautious. “Tommy… I know why you’re asking, but I have no idea where to even begin with bringing Tubbo back.” 

“Why not?” Tommy is sharp, almost accusing. 

“Well, has a ghost of him showed up?” Phil asks. 

“N-No.” 

Phil does look sorry, but it doesn’t change the facts. “Ghosts can be killed, temporarily, but still. And ghosts can hold totems. Corpses can’t.” 

“Oh,” Tommy frowns. “But surely you found something else, something we could do if we have his body–” 

“Tommy…” 

“No, Phil– There _has_ to be a way, Dream said– And if he could figure it out, why can’t you?!” Tommy isn’t angry, at least not just angry. He’s desperate. 

“What’s this bit about Dream?” Techno interjects. 

“He’s alive because he said he could bring him back,” Tommy tries to force his tone to remain level. “Otherwise he’d be done.” 

“And has he told you how? Has he told you anything?” Techno pushes. 

“Look– I know everyone thinks he’s fuckin’ manipulating me again, everyone thinks he’s lying, but what the fuck am I supposed to do?” Tommy looks at them both, daring them to challenge him. “Kill him? Kill him and spend the rest of my fucking life wondering if I’m the reason Tubbo can’t come back?!” 

Neither of them have an answer. 

“Phil… Phil, please. You’re _sure_ there isn’t another way?” Tommy has to ask one more time. 

“I’m so sorry, Tommy. I just don’t know. We don’t even have Ghostbur around to try and see if it works at all. I swear, I have _tried._ I have tried so hard, but… there’s no easy answers. Not for something like this,” Phil wishes he had anything else to offer. He wishes he had his son back. 

Techno sighs. “You should spend the night. You’re not gonna survive the walk back. And we don’t need any more–” Techno stops himself. 

“What?” Tommy mutters. “Any more dead bodies?” 

Techno doesn’t respond to that. “Your room is gone, but you can crash up here.” 

“Right…” 

Tommy wakes up early, bolting awake and breathing hard. He doesn’t know what he was dreaming about. He can hazard a guess. Unlike the day before, there isn’t a moment of peace between sleep and wake where he had forgotten. This morning had no such luxury, that weight of grief and the terror that came with it were his awakening. Tommy says nothing to Phil or Techno, he doesn’t wake them, he just starts walking. Then rowing. Then he’s back. His physical journey through exile manifest in two days. 

Tommy’s first stop is at the prison. He presses the button and waits. No response. He keeps waiting. No response. Tommy tries going through the portal, he makes it to the middle room, but going back through sends him back outside. He presses the button again. 

“Sam!” 

“You didn’t schedule a visit, Tommy. You can’t come in today.” 

“That’s bullshit, Sam! You just don’t want me back in here!” 

“Yeah, Tommy, you know what– I don’t want you deliberately hurting yourself. Schedule ahead next time.” Sam is worried about Tommy. He wishes there was a way he could help him, but as he can’t, the least he can do is stop Tommy from throwing himself into a situation that triggers him, even if it makes him feel like he’s being unkind. 

“Ugh! Fine!” Tommy shouts at the empty air before storming out. He isn’t sure what he’s meant to do next, staring at the prison, unyielding before him. 

_Maybe you should go see the body. You’re gonna have to put him in the ground sometime._

Tommy starts down the prime path with no intention of going to Eret’s castle. He keeps his eyes down, avoids the bench and makes it back into his messy house. 

Except it’s not messy anymore. Someone had gone and put everything back in chests. Except the broken shards of vinyl, which had been placed carefully in a new chest in the center of the room, a note is inside alongside a dozen cookies. 

_If you need anything I’m at my house or I’ll be at Eret’s. Don’t be a stranger. -Puffy_

Tommy doesn’t know what to do with her kindness. He doesn’t know what to do with the broken discs either. _Tubbo died for those and you destroyed them. You really do break everything you touch._

Tommy hates how much he misses Wilbur. Almost as much as he hates that cruel, snide little voice in the back of his head that sounds just like him. Time has been moving strangely for him, hours slipping away but every moment alone with his thoughts extends painfully. He still hasn’t gone to see the body. He still has said nothing on planning a funeral. 

“Tommy… please, it’s been days. We don’t want to do this without you, but how much longer do you want to put it off?” Quackity is the first to push him. 

“Just– Just let me have another go at it– Tell Sam to just fucking let me go back. Okay? Let me try again. ‘Cause then we might not even need to have a– a–” Tommy is almost panicked. Putting Tubbo in the ground feels like defeat. 

“I mean, I could ask him for you, but I’m sure he has his reasons–” 

“Yeah, he does. He doesn’t want me to fuckin’ hurt myself ‘cause he thinks I’m delicate–” 

“He’s _worried_ , man. We all are. You don’t leave your house, you’re not eating, Puffy has _tried_ bringing you food and shit–” 

“I am _fine._ I just need to see Dream.” 

Quackity can tell he isn’t going to waver on this. He sighs. “Fine, you know what? Fine– Fuck it. I’ll ask Sam to let you back in. If you see him one more time, _then_ can you help us? You won’t even have to do anything. You just… You need to be there. Okay? You _need_ to be there.” 

Tommy eventually nods. “Fine. You get me in to see Dream, that doesn’t work, I’ll help with the goddamn funeral.” 

Sam is reluctant, but it seems he’s under the impression that after this, Tommy might find closure. That if this happens and Tommy agrees to a funeral, that means he has made some kind of progress. Tommy is just looking for a way in. 

The second time around isn’t exactly easier. The water is still rough, but at least he knows what he’s in for. Even the waiting game for the wall of lava to settle seems to move quicker. Especially as Sam is still trying his best to help. 

“I’m going to keep the barrier up this time, okay? Until the visit is over, then you’ll have to go to the back corner to be sent out, but that should help.” 

“No point,” Tommy shakes his head, staring at the lava with harsh determination. “Don’t protect me from him. I’m… I’m not planning on being kind m’self.” 

Sam doesn’t know what to say to that. Everything he knows about himself says he shouldn’t let Tommy do this. That it’s cruel to let Tommy attack a prisoner. Sam had also spent the past days stuck with Dream. During which Dream had been more than happy to share, to _brag_ about all the hurt he had done to Tommy in exile. To talk about killing Tubbo. To tell Sam what it was like, how Tommy had screamed and begged Dream to kill him, how Tubbo had died quickly, but maybe not quick enough, as Tommy had still had enough time to hold him. 

Sam’s sense of mercy was back at Dream’s museum of horrors. It remained in the waiting cage labeled _Fran_ and in the pool of blood from a kid he had tried to look out for. He hadn’t even been able to carry Tubbo home, as he had begun his burden of taking care of the very man who had killed him. Sam had no mercy left. 

“Fine. Do what you have to, Tommy. But please… don’t do anything that’ll hurt yourself,” Sam has to at least ask that. 

Tommy nods, but that seems almost like a dismissal rather than a promise. 

“It’s been too long, Tommy. I almost thought you’d already given up,” Dream looks worse. It had been a matter of days, and he looks _sullen_. Like a petulant child tired of time out. “You haven’t given up on _your Tubbo_ , have you?” 

“No,” Tommy says stiffly. It wasn’t that he had forgotten how much he hates Dream, more like he’d forgotten how quickly the sound of his voice made him feel sick to his stomach. “So what _do_ you want, Dream? You know why I’m here. Why don’t you, you know, try and fuckin’ bargain.” 

“What do I want?” Dream laughs. “You should already know what I want, Tommy.” Tommy doesn’t respond to the taunt, so Dream pushes further. “You.” He smirks when Tommy reacts with disgust. “I want our game to continue. I want you to keep visiting me and I want you to play your part.” 

“And, what, once you get bored of this part of our game you’ll bring Tubbo back?” 

“Mhm,” Dream pretends to consider it for a moment, slowly twisting the clock on the wall. “May-be,” his tone turns lilted and taunting. 

“Oh fuck this–“ Tommy mutters, shifting from foot to foot. “You’ve got to start giving up tangible fucking demands otherwise I’ll stop coming.” 

“Fine. You want tangible demands? How about you have to visit me,” Dream almost sounds like he’s actually taking this seriously. Almost. “How about our arrangement before you betrayed me and left your exile. You’ll visit me at least once a week.” 

“And what do I get?” Tommy frowns. 

Dream leans against the back wall, head tilted mockingly, “I promise to consider maybe telling you the first step to getting Tubbo’s corpse moving again.” 

Tommy cringes, “why the fuck would you say it like that… besides that’s a bullshit deal. That- That means nothing.” 

“Oh, but Tommy, you have nothing else to go on.” 

“I could hurt you,” Tommy snapped. “Not like you can run away. That’s by design, remember? You didn’t want me running away again.” 

Dream raises an eyebrow. “Do it, then.” Tommy doesn’t move. Dream takes a step closer. “Do it. Hit me. Do something. I’ve been getting bored here. A fight is the perfect way to make things more exciting. Well, it’s not much of a fight, you go down with one hit.” 

“You hit me you’ll be alone again,” Tommy doesn’t step back. “And that won’t be _fun_ for you, now, will it?” 

Dream assesses him curiously, slowly circling him, forcing Tommy to turn to keep him in his line of sight. “They all don’t believe you, do they?” 

“What?” 

“All of them,” Dream nods to the wall of lava behind him. “Out there. They think you’re just desperate and in denial. Don’t they?” 

“They don’t fucking trust you. And neither do I,” Tommy snaps. 

“Yeah, but you’re still here, aren’t you?” Dream waits for him to respond. He doesn’t. “They don’t believe I can bring him back. Or at least they don’t think I will. They want to bury him, don’t they? They want to get rid of him and be done with it. They want _you_ to be done with it so they don’t have to keep wasting time looking after you so they don’t feel guilty. These people don’t care about you, remember? None of them came to see you in exile. None of them believed you when you said you didn’t blow up the community house. None of them believe you now when you say you’re going to rescue Tubbo. They’re _humoring_ you, Tommy. I’m the only one who’s ever given you the truth, a brutal truth, sure, but better than them catering to your delusions.” 

“What’re you getting at here? What’s the point in you saying all this?” Tommy tries not to let on that Dream is targeting a resentment he’s tried to keep buried. They’re his _friends._ They want to make sure he’s okay. This cannot be pity. These people all came to rescue him– _or… they all came to rescue Tubbo. The fact that you’re the only one to make it out is just a nasty side effect._

“You’re never going to earn their love, Tommy,” Dream ignores the question. “I almost made you good enough to have around, but first chance you got you went off and undid my work, turned back into an irritating, arrogant child.” 

“I wasn’t _better_ – I was traumatized you fucking prick!” Tommy bursts out. 

Dream laughs sharply. “I didn’t realize you were so sensitive to consequences.” 

“ _Consequences?_ ” Tommy knows Dream is just trying to get a rise out of him, but it doesn’t help him bottle that rage. “Your go-to is to hurt everyone around me before you punish me! You put walls around L’Manberg before you got them to exile me. You blew up L’Manberg because I kept fighting you. And-And then when I listened, when I went out there to that mountain like you _asked_ , you killed– You– This was never about consequences!” 

“You’re right, Tommy. It was about playing the _game_. So, it’s your move. Why are you back here?” 

“I am doing what you asked. You wanted me to keep coming back. So I’m here. This is supposed to be a negotiation.” 

“Is it?” 

“ _Yes_ , it is.” 

Dream sighs loudly, “do you really expect me to give up my one bargaining chip after two visits? Come on, Tommy. These things take time.” 

Tommy doesn’t _want_ this to take time. He wants to have some indication of what to do _now_. Before they put him in the ground. 

“Please.” 

Dream laughs, seeming delighted. “Oh! Well in that case– _Really_ , Tommy. What do you think you’re going to gain here?” 

“You don’t have to tell me everything– Just something! Some sign that you’re telling the truth about any of this.” Tommy knows he’s pleading. He’d rather do this than give up and worry about a funeral. 

“Hm. No.” 

“ _No?_ ” 

“No.” 

“Then- Then how am I supposed to believe anything you say?!” Tommy is so tired. 

“We’ve been over this. It doesn’t _matter_ if you believe me, because the alternative is giving up,” Dream still didn’t seem irritated. He was perfectly calm, only amused as Tommy grew more panicked. 

“I’ll leave. Right now, I’ll leave and you’ll be alone again.” 

“Until you come back.” 

“What if I don’t come back?” 

Dream smirks. “What if you go kill yourself? What if you kill me? What if you hurt me? What if?” Dream takes a step closer, they’re almost the same height, but Dream still seems to tower over him. “It doesn’t _matter._ It doesn’t change the fact that Tubbo is dead.” 

“You sick son of a bitch–” Tommy can’t contain his anger anymore, slamming Dream back into the wall, punching him in the jaw. Dream remains unphased. 

“You want me to hit back. Don’t you? If I hit back you get out of here not by choice. That way you’ll be able to convince yourself you didn’t give up,” Dream dabs away blood from his lip. “You’re funny, Tommy. If your intention really is to torture me, you’re gonna have to try a lot harder.” 

“Don’t think I won’t–” 

“You know what, I actually don’t think you will. If not because I don’t think you could stomach it, but because if you jump to the most extreme solution first thing, and that doesn’t work, where do you have to go from there? It’s easier to start by talking. Isn’t it?” Dream scoffs. 

Tommy takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, trying to think of anything he could say that might get Dream to let something slip. “Do… Do we need t-the– the body? To bring him back. Do we need the body?” 

Dream tilts his head, assessing Tommy again, but giving nothing away himself. “They’re trying to bury him. Aren’t they?” 

“What difference does that make–” 

“That’s why you’re here. One last attempt before they put him in the ground,” Dream is grinning. “Oh, that’s rich– That’s why you’ve stuck it out. I would’ve thought you’d have given up by now, but if you leave, that means you have to deal with a funeral.” 

“Shut up. Just– Shut the fuck up–” 

“How about I save you some time,” Dream steps forward, Tommy steps back. “You’ll get nothing from me. Not today, at least. So I’m not gonna let you keep using me to put this off.” Tommy continues to stumble back until he feels the heat of the lava behind him. “Oh, I’m not going to hit you, Tommy. Just give you a little _push_ ,” Dream shoves him back into the lava. 

A millisecond of blinding pain, and then Tommy is on the floor in the outer chamber again. 

“Tommy– You–” Sam is at his side in an instant. “Next time the barrier stays up. You got that? This is not okay.” 

“Yeah, no shit!” Tommy is fuming. It’s easier to feel that rage than acknowledge what comes next. A pause, Sam trying to give him time to compose himself. “I… I don’t want to bury him.” 

“I am so sorry, Tommy. But there’s nothing left for us to do,” Sam says gently. “For now, at least,” he adds quickly as he sees Tommy shake his head. 

“For now,” Tommy repeats it like it will solidify that as fact. 

Tommy has spent days wandering across the SMP, like he was looking for help. As if by confronting the right person, he wouldn't have to do this. Yet he still ends up _here._ How could he have expected anything else? It isn’t Tommy’s idea to bury him underneath the cliff in front of the bench, but Tommy also hates that he likes the thought. It feels right, and that only makes this harder. Even worse when he sees the casket. Tommy doesn’t even want to be there, so no one expects him to help carry it. He knows Sam, Jack, Eret, and Quackity are carrying it down the hill. He looks up to see them and in doing so he sees the sign, already made and waiting above Tubbo’s empty tomb. He had been asked what he wanted it to say repeatedly. Tommy had refused to give an answer. As such, it read: 

_Tubbo_

_Friend. President. Hero._

_You were loved and you will be missed._

He hates it. He knows no inscription would’ve felt right, but he still hates it. It feels cheap, shallow to try and quantify a whole person in three words. To say _loved_ in the past tense, to say _missed_ like he’s gone forever– He almost wants to tear it down. From then on he just looks down. Puffy is beside him, not saying anything, just being there beside him. It’s too sunny and bright. It should’ve been raining. 

Niki comes up on his other side. “I… I tried to get the blood out. It helps that it was red already…” She hands him the other neckerchief. The red one Tubbo had worn. 

Tommy stares at it. “I don’t want this. This is for Tubbo. I…” A hand goes to the green one around his own neck. He hadn’t bothered to wash it, so he knows there must be flecks of blood on it. 

“Oh. I’m sorry, Tommy. I can… I can put it with the flags,” Niki wilts. 

“The… The flags?” Tommy frowns. 

“Y-Yeah. Eret put them over the… the casket. I’ll make sure this stays with him,” she waits for a moment for him to show some indication of approval, and takes his silence as the best answer she would get. 

Tommy has his own sentimental objects on hand. Puffy, who had walked him down here, had suggested it. “Since they’re broken and you won’t be able to play them again, maybe they should go with him?” 

Tommy has the two broken discs wrapped in an old shirt, otherwise he would’ve lost half the pieces just trying to pick them up. It doesn’t feel formal enough, but Tommy doesn’t _want_ it to feel formal. Formal means final. Tommy sees the casket in front of him and it feels like he’s been kicked in the chest. Three flags are laid over the casket in a line. The original L’Manberg flag is draped over the top, but the one in the middle is Tubbo’s. It’s like his heart is stitched onto it. He and his nation had been so vulnerable, and it was like he knew that. That vulnerability was worn as a badge of pride on his nation’s flag. Finally, the Snowchester flag. This one hurts. It’s all of Tubbo’s hopes for the future, buried alongside him. 

There are flowers, too. Tommy hadn’t realized how different the clearing looked until he looked up and saw it had been covered in flowers. _The bees will come here._

Tommy is hasty, he puts the two discs on top of the casket and backs away. 

“Tommy?” Puffy is startled when he turns and keeps walking. “You’re leaving?” He doesn’t respond. 

“Please, Tommy. You’ll regret not saying goodbye,” Niki reaches out to stop him gently. 

Tommy pulls away from her light hold on his arm, and with utter certainty he replies, “this isn’t goodbye. I’m getting him back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has not been a happy fic, so those of you who've read it, thank you! I loved hearing about your tears <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this I commend you. I wrote it with the intention of crying. Any feedback is much appreciated <3


End file.
